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Mind Control
Chumley Manor Chumley Manor is a very olde-style home, full of corridors, wooden furnature and paintings. Lots of painting all of Lord Chumley's ancestors, all with eyes watching everything. Antiques litter the place, and the main sitting room is huge, with a roaring fire and comfy chairs Chumley Manor! Home for generations to the Chumleys, one of the most distinguished families of these emerald isles. And today the Lord is in, and expecting a guest, none other than Jayson Redfield of the EDC who has been personally invited. Lord Chumley stands in the main room by the fire, talking to his assorted guests and henchmen, swirling a malt liquor. "And this!" he utters to the evil Dr Archeville. "This is the rare Volkswagen Beetle which I hunted." On the wall is the front half of a Volkswagon, mounted on a plaque "One of your better kills, sir," says Bebop, one of Chumley's highly trained and professional henchmen. (And by highly trained, I mean he watches a lot of kung fu movies, and by professional, I mean not at all.) Dr. Arkeville is sitting in a fine carved wooden rocking chair which is almost assuredly antique. Of course, to his thinking, the chair is sadly obsolete. He listens to Lord Chumley's explaination of his various hunting tropies, and he notes wryly, "It would seem that the other half escaped, then?" Rocksteady stares at the automobile in complete awe, a slight trail of drool seeping from the corner of his lips. "OOOH Why yes sir! It's very swell, sir! Great hunting capabilities sir!" "Nonono dear chap." Lord Chumley pours another glass of liquor from his decanter. "A huntsman never mounts ALL his kill, that is uncouth. No, the rest of it is disposed of. Eaten in a feast, the hide turned into ornaments, as such." He gestures at one of the rugs of the room, which is made out of the beaten back half of a Volkswagon Beetle." He waves a hand at Rocksteady, his punk henchman. "Geral-uh, /Rocksteady/, fetch Dr Archeville a glass of my finest Marmite Liquor whilst we wait for my guest" Jayson Redfield doesn't even know why he accepted the invite. But after last night's encounter with Nate and Compton, he's in a pretty bad mood. Maybe he can get some information out of Chumley. Having arrived in London via his Talon (which saves a lot more time than just taking a plane), he heads into the mansion without hesitation. He is currently dressed in his usual civilian attire. Rocksteady purses his lips in a fruity fashion, his index finger pointed at his chest. "Me sir? Oh why YES SIR!". He quickly ran back into the cupboard, knocking over a multitude of glasses and other trickets. "Whoops sir! Sorry sir! ....Ah there we are, the finest of all wines my sir!" Because Rocksteady is so horribly incompetent, Carl-BEBOP, moves over to the cupboard to help him. "Not wine, you moron! He said he wanted MARMITE LIQUOR, God, weren't you listening!?" He gives Rocksteady a comedic slap over the head and points to the appropriate drink. Chumley fingers a piece of paper in his hands. It is an application to join the EDC. "...and when THIS is complete, I will be able to claim travel expenses from England to America yet only actually commute from my home in America!" He throws back his head and laughs, when a bell sounds. He claps his beefy hands. "We have a guest! Bring him in, sit him down, make him /at home/" "Oh me!" Rocksteady says in a very nonchalant way, shrugging his shoulders with a goofy painted smile on his face. A lone hand reaches out toward the correct beverage, as he poured it messily; spilling it all over the carpet and table top. "Whoooops!" Dr. Arkeville looks over at the Volkswagon rug dubiously. Why oh why did he say he would do consulting for these people? Oh yeah, because the Autobots are a pain in his left gluteal activator. When Jason arrives, he gives the youth the kind of look that is usually reserved for dead frogs in a dissection class, and he rifles through a valise, looking for a certain little piece of gadgetry. He has to admit that he's rather unenthused by the concept of marmite liquor. He mutters, "Such unorthodox schooling techniques for the youths, these days. Of course, when I was his age, I had already completed two degrees at MIT." Jayson Redfield is pretty sure he wouldn't ever feel at home in this creepy place. He currently has an expression on his face that would probably reduce Chumley to ashes if such a thing were possible. "Why do all the freaks seem to gather together?" he says dryly. "D'you guys roam in packs or what?" Bebop recoils in horror. "Nooo!! The boss' finest mink carpeting!" He grabs a roll of paper towels convieniently in arms reach and begins to soak up the mess on the countertop. "Oh noooooo! And his finest elephant tusk tiled counter!" As Redfield enters the luxurious room, Chumley sits, slapping a thigh merrily. "Jayson, Jayson my boy, welcome, take a seat, have a drink, help yourself to an MBE!" There is a bowl on the table full of MBE medals. "I have so been meaning to speak to you, and we have a lot to discuss." He waves in the direction of Arkeville. "You may know the noted Doctor Arkeville, he and I go way back, and often while away the hours talking about science and ... stuff." He then waves in the direction of his punkish thugs. "And here are my housestaff, Carl and Gerald, a little eccentric, but their family has worked for mine for generations" Dr. Arkeville gestures maniacally and insists, "There is a very fine line between a freak and visionary." Actually a Visionary is a dude with a hologram in his chest, silly doctor. "It shouldn't surprise me that a child like you cannot see the difference." He sniffs. Rocksteady only stands there, staring off into space as Bebop is obviously having some difficulties. "Hmmmmm.." He hummed loudly, "The carpet sure is soaked." A pause then intervenes for a few moments, allowing Rocksteady's brain to react. "Oh... do you need any help?" Jayson Redfield mostly ignores said housestaff. He makes himself comfortable in a chair, folds his arms, and crosses one leg over the other. "Whatever," he retorts to Archeville. He huffs slightly. "What did you invite me here for, Chumley? Are you going to ask if I want to touch your rifle again?" Bebop soaks up as much as the liquor as possible, "Well, not anymore!" He grabs a few of Chumley's most expensive goblets (they're made out of snow leopard bones ): ) and wrings the paper towels over them untill they're filled. "'Ere you go!" he chirps, shoving one of them into Jayson's hands. Lord Chumley gives a huff, and waves a hand at Bebop. "Mind the Skunk-toenail chandelier, it is very expensive!" Then he turns his large head back towards Jayson. "Young man, I have watched your progress and your house for some time. Impressive, very impressive." He stands, popping a cigar into his mouth and striding over to the fireplace. "There is no Lady Chumley, for reasons that may become clear!" he announces, turning to Jayson. "However, the line must continue, I MUST make an heir!" Dr. Arkeville sniffs again. This Jayson Redfield is so very juvenile. It's nothing that being forced to do wiring diagrams uphill, both ways, in a snowstorm wouldn't solve, but professors are so easy on their students, these days. Can't get that kind of quality education anymore. He suggests, "There's always cloning. Or androids. They're quite life-like, these days." Cloning: for when normal reproduction just isn't an option. Dinsmoore has arrived. Jayson Redfield narrows his eyes as he watches Chumley in momentary silence, setting the goblet aside. He doesn't want to hold something like that, anyway. "Is there a point to this?" The sooner he can get out of here, the better. He'd rather not have to deal with a big game hunter--people like that just tick him off. Dinsmoore appears behind Bebop. How he got there, nobody knows, but there is a pink feather duster in his hands, and he is carefully dusting the mohawked man. Bebop gains a +5 to cleanliness. Bebop suddenly feels stronger...better...faster..He also sneezes. Chumley sighs at his housestaff. "Can't I get some REAL service in here?" he utters, and then smiles as he sees Dinsmoore appear. "Ah, young Jayson, some people think hunting is my only love. Not so!" He pulls a lever and a curtain on the far wall opens up, revealing an ornate portrait of Jayson Redfield wearing a military uniform. "Ah, wrong lever" he blusters, and pulls another one. A portrait of Astoria Carlton-Ritz is revealed. "Lovely Astoria. Sadly her heart is taken by another. And so I must destroy them all!" He sits on his comfy chair again. "Tell me Redfield, how do YOU feel about these 'transformers'" "Bless you, sah," Dinsmoore promptly says, moving to dust Bebop's other shoulder. Jayson Redfield really doesn't want to know WHY Chumley has a picture of him. He snorts. "Is that all? It depends--the Autobots are my friends. The Decepticons are the enemy. Not hard to understand, is it?" Dr. Arkeville hisses, "Incorrect. All Transformers are the enemy. They have technology that may as well be magic, for all that we can understand it, but like fickle and capricious titans, they only throw us their table scraps. They seek to hold us back, to halt our technological advance. We shouldn't stand for it." So he's sitting down. Convenient. Bebop pops the collar on his jacket, yanks out a comb, and begins to make his mohawk pointier and more mohawkey. "I don't know. I mean, some of them are kind of cool.." "Yes, table scraps!" Chumley claps his hands to his servants. "Housestaff, Dinsmoore, provide us with a FEAST! What is on the menu today, do we have any of those delicious dolphin bladders?" He turns back to Jayson. "You know Jayson, I am 144th in line to the throne of England, and once my colleagues help me arrange... 143 'accidents', then I will be king, and Astoria will /have/ to marry me!" He rises triumphantly. "But such things take time, and much work needs to be done. And I must have someone to carry on my great work when I am gone, there is SO much to hunt!" He looks towards Jayson. "Redfield, I want to ADOPT you!" Jayson Redfield still looks agitated. "You're all insane. You know that, right?" Then, at Chumley's declaration, he seems to choke on nothing, but quickly regains his composure. "You WHAT?!" He stares at Chumley like he's just grown an extra head. "No. No no no. I don't want anything to DO with you!" "144 accidents, sah," Dinsmoore corrects. "One of them is pregnant." He finishes dusting Bebop and turns to Lord Chumley. "There was some trouble with the dolphin ships, sah," he wheezes, "Tuna kept getting caught in the nets, ruining the catch, I'm afraid. Shall I prepare the panda roast instead, sah?" he asks. Lord Chumley's manservant is already on his way towards the kitchen. Bebop takes a sip of his Bounty liquor, grimacing only slightly. "Lucky jerk-off," he growls, giving Jayson the nastiest look he can muster. Lord Chumley chuckles at Jayson like a petulant child. "Ah Redfield, do not think I am a monster just because your friends have told you so. Dinsmoore, Gerald, Carl, tell Mr Redfield of my life and good deeds, and how I have cared for you as if you weren't the dolescum you are" Dr. Arkeville comments, idly, "Choking isn't good for your health, you know." It's so funny that Jayson even thinks he has a choice, though. Free will is only for people who earn it. Jayson Redfield pokes an accusing finger at Chumley. "You're a MONSTER, a threat to innocent animals, and even humans. What the HELL would you even want to adopt me for? In case you haven't noticed, I beat the crap out of creeps like you." "Huh? Oh!" Bebop scoffs, dumping the rest of his drink into a nearby plant (the rarest variety, of course). "The boss is a great guy! Sure he kidnapped me from my moderately well off and loving family and then forced me into slave labor much like his family has done to mine for generations, but he's a really wonderful man! Honest!" Chumley takes a sip of a nearby cup of tea. "Who's the real monster in today's society, Mr Redfield? Is it me, who commits genocide against animals and mounts their heads on his wall, or-" he pauses dramtically. "Is it the BUSINESSMAN in his SUIT and TIE?" Rocksteady screams in unprovoked terror, forcing a wide smile at the same time of course. "Oh the boss sure has a nice home, and a lovely stained carpet, and trophies and... and.. an AMAZING personality!" Wow. If he could sound anymore like an asskisser, his face would be completely brown. Jayson Redfield just stares at Chumley. "I'm pretty sure it's you." Dr. Arkeville has an actual good excuse and points out, "Lord Chumley has funded a wide variety of research with practical applications." Usually the practical application of shootifying things, but still. Chumley coughs. "No Redfield, listen. "The BUSINESSMAN, in his /SUIT/ and /TIE/" "Yeah. THE MAN!" Bebop shouts, shoving his fist in the air. Dinsmoore stops before reaching the kitchen. He has been called upon to extol the virtues of his master. Dinsmoore shuffles around to face Jayson as if only noticing him now for the first time. "I can personally attest," he starts off in his slow wheeze, "Of an incident where Lord Chumley once rescued a cheetah from being eaten by a tiger by killing the tiger in mortal combat. Seconds later, he rescued a lion from being eaten by a cheetah by courageously slaughtering the cheetah. Mere moments afterward he defended a bear from being eaten by a lion by shooting it." Dinsmoore pauses here to recover his breath, as he's not used to talking this much. A few puffs on an asthma puffer stabilizes him, though. "He then saved a squirrel from being eaten by a bear via an F-18 air strike." Dinsmoore gestures with a bony hand, "Eventually he saved that entire African wildlife refuge." Dinsmoore glances at Lord Chumley. "It really was must heroic of you, sah." Jayson Redfield just continues staring. "No. I'm still pretty sure it's you. Businessmen do just that--business. As far as I know, THEY don't spend their time hunting for sport like some deranged serial killer." He turns his glare to Dinsmoore. "You're not helping. Shut up." "Oy! Don't tell him to shut up!" Bebop hollers, pointing at Jayson through his fingerless leather gloves. "He's the greatest of ALL manservants!" Chumley twirls his moustache. "Yes, I am rather heroic!" he muses. "Tell me Redfield, have you ever dressed up as Santa Claus just so you can get small children to bounce up and down on your knee?" He coughs, waving at Dinsmoore. "Dinsmoore, give young Master Redfield the gift I have for him!" He beholds a small Union Jack pinbadge on the table. "For you, Master Redfield, a gift of my generosity" Dinsmoore shuffles around to face Lord Chumley, "This one is very hard to please, sah." Nevertheless, if the Union Flag pin doesn't do it, then nothing will. Dinsmoore ambles over to the table and picks up the pin. He then ambles on over to Jayson, awkwardly trying to affix the pin to Jayson's shirt and/or jacket. Dinsmoore's dexterity isn't all there anymore, though. Jayson Redfield snorts, ignoring Bebop and snatching the pin from Dinsmoore. "I'll do it myself, old man." He shoots Chumley a look. "At least THIS time you're not giving me a mounted My Little Pony head. D'you know how FRIGGIN' CREEPY that is?" He shifts his jacket it a little and then pins the badge on it, commenting quietly, "Pretty stylish, actually..." And then he goes silent. Dr. Arkeville steeples his fingers and smirks slightly. He agrees, an odd tone to his voice, "Oh, *very* stylish." Chumley curls his moustache in a creepy manner. "Oh very nice Redfield, the King WILL be pleased! Now, remember NEVER take off that badge, not even when you sleep, to do so would be UNPATRIOTIC. Is that clear my boy?" Dinsmoore smiles as Jayson takes the pin and puts it on himself. It is a cruel smile without nearly as many teeths as should be there. "Very stylish, sahs," he agrees. He shuffles back to rejoin his fellows. Bebop goes into one of Chumleys cupboards and begins to smoke one of his finest cigars (it's been rolled with a piece of the Declaration of Independence). "Oh, yes, /very/ stylish." Jayson Redfield stays quiet for a moment, then nods. "Sure thing." His entire demeanor seems to have changed, almost like he's being controlled by some unknown force! Dr. Arkeville knows all about unknown forces. They're the best forces! He comments idly, "Isn't it amazing what a little make-over can do?" Chumley pats Jayson on the shoulder with a big, beefy Lord-like hand. "Wonderful my lad, wonderful. We'll make a Chumley out of you yet. But my heir will need to learn to hunt. And what a hunt I have for you!" He presses a button, to show another portrait, this time of none other than SPIKE WITWICKY!" Young Master Redfield, you will hunt for me the UN SECRETARY GENERAL. I have prepared the plaque for his head." On the wall is a wooden plaque with the legend "SPIKE WITWICKY" Dinsmoore stands next to Chumley, gazing out into the distance. He isn't quite looking at Jayson. Instead he's just looking in a mostly random direction. He then remembers about the panda roast he has in the kitchen and heads in to fetch it. Bebop puffs loudly and messily on his cigar, blowing smoke all over Chumley's prized mounts. "Hmm...Spike Witwicky, eh? The most valuable of hunts.." Jayson Redfield obediently nods again. "I'll...I'll hunt him down. I know where to find him..." Unless, of course, Spike moves around a lot! "He is...the enemy?" His hand idly strays toward the handgun his has hidden in his jacket, as if he's making sure it's still there. Chumley nods. "Yes, the greater-spiked Witwicky! And no Jayson no, that is not a gentleman's weapon. THIS is!" He hands Jayson an elephant-rifle. "The weapon of a LORD. Do not fail me OR the British Empire, Redfield!" Dr. Arkeville drums his fingers on the arms of the horribly rare rocking chair and encourages, "Spike Witwicky stands in the way of *progress* and *science*. You must do it, for the educational system!" "It's the change we've been waiting for!" Bebop shouts. Dinsmoore returns with the victory feast. A large platter of panda roast is resting on a cart being pushed by Lord Chumley's manservant. There's also numerous side dishes, but strangely it's all meat of some sort. He begins serving everyone, starting with Lord Chumley and his new adopted son. "Very stylish," he suddenly wheezes, having forgotten the past 30 seconds. Jayson Redfield looks a little uncertain. "But I've never used one of those before." "Should we take him out to the whale aquarium for targeting practice, sah?" Dinsmoore suggests as he gives Bebop a plate of panda roast. "Oh, thank you," Bebop says, using his hands as utensils for the roast. Chumley shakes his head. "Nono, the use of the elephant gun is instinctive. You will know when the time comes Redfield - AAAAH!" He raises his own elephant gun, and with a loud BANG, shoots the roast through the middle. "Bullseye!" he exclaims happily. "Dinsmoore, have it mounted! Redfield, go fulfil your destiny!" "Destiny, huh..." Jayson finally gets out of the chair. "Okay. I'll have Spike for you in no time."